A Fate Worse Than Death
by MichaelCross
Summary: Alternate Scene regarding John's final confrontation with Santino. Has dark theme within.


A Fate Worse Than Death

Disclaimer; I do not own John Wick. Wish I did, though.

Author's Notes; This alternate scenario takes place in the Lounge of the Continental in which Santino learns there is, indeed, a fate much worse than death.

Staring nervously up the barrel of the Kimber 1911 .45 ACP that John Wick, the _Baba Yaga_, is aiming at him, Santino D'Antonio is also arrogantly smug. With Winston doing his best to talk John out of shooting him.

"Jonathan, just walk away."

"Yes, Jonathan. Just walk away." John's nostrils flare in anger at how arrogantly casual Santino's being in using how Winston addresses him. He then blinks before a seldom seen grin appears on his face. Blinking, Santino asks, "What can you possibly be grinning about, Jonathan?"

"Winston…" Ignoring Santino for the moment, John sets the .45 ACP down onto the table beside him and looks to the Manager of the hotel. "Are there any suites next to Santino's?" Lightly exhaling in relief that John's not going to break his most prized rule, Winston nods.

"As a matter of fact, Jonathan, there is one."

"I'll take it. Put it on Santino's account, if you will." Santino's jaw can only drop as John looks back to him before going on. "After all, we're going to be neighbors and, since my dog and I are now without a home because of him, it's only proper he takes responsibility for it." It's not very often Winston is amused by looks of horror, but this night, he is for Santino is wearing a look of sheer horror.

"Of course, Jonathan. You're quite right."

"I refuse." Santino feels his ire rise as he goes on. "I will not pay to have this… ruffian stay in the same proximity as I, let alone be my neighbor. Especially since he'd killed Gianna." John can only shrug at that.

"Then I guess you'll pay to have my house rebuilt, along with pull the contract. While my dog and I are here, of course." Tapping his chin thoughtfully, he sighs before adding, "Of course, Helen painted the artwork that was destroyed when you launched the grenades into the house we shared together before she passed away. She was a great artist, you know. Which will make replacing it very hard to do." Santino gives a scoff.

"What happened to your house is not my problem."

"Oh? It's certainly your fault my dog and I are without a home, Santino. So, yeah. It's your problem." John's words get Winston to nod in agreement.

"I'm afraid I must concur with Jonathan, Mr. D'Antonio." Winston's voice gets Santino's attention as he goes on. "After all, you did destroy the house he and his late wife had lived together in until her untimely end." Musing, he adds, "I wonder what the 'High Table' will think when they hear about what you'd done." At that, John chimes back in.

"Yeah. Especially since you're the one that'd used the marker I gave you to condemn Gianna to death all so you can claim her seat. Along with put a price on my head to tie up loose ends."

"I think the 'High Table' will consider the matter beneath them and ignore it." Noticing John's hand inching toward the gun, Santino smirks. "You want to kill me so badly, it hurts. But you know you can't, given the rules here. Much like you can't do anything, John. Because I won't pay to be your neighbor."

"I'll handle that aspect, Jonathan. Why don't you go get a drink at the bar?" Winston notices the bartender gazing at John before grinning softly. "I'm sure Addy would be more than happy to serve you."

"Alright." Giving Santino a shark-like grin, he adds, "I hope you like guitar music, Santino. Because I've been thinking about resuming playing guitar lately and I think I could use an audience." Winston's interest and sense of mischief can only be peaked as the man softly smirks.

"If you're interested, Jonathan, Addy plays drums."

"Good to know, Winston. Good to know." With that, John starts away. Leaving the .45 ACP on the table. With Santino eying it as his left eye twitches.

'I have the perfect opportunity! But… the rules of the Continental and him being _Baba Yaga_ don't exactly support it.' Before he even realizes it, the gun's in his hand, the muzzle in the underside of his chin before he pulls the trigger.

BLAM

As Santino's brain matter exits the top of his head, John stops walking toward the bar and looks back to the corpse.

"Well… I don't come across that very often."

"You, Jonathan, are not the only one. I guess he figured suicide would be preferable to being your neighbor. Also, there are much less straightforward ways to commit suicide."

"I guess. But I wouldn't have been that bad a neighbor." Curious, he asks, "Would I?"

"No, Jonathan, you wouldn't have." Sighing at that, Winston waves John on. "Go and get your drink, Jonathan, while I make the 'Dinner Reservation' for Mr. D'Antonio."

"Okay, Winston." Resuming his walk to the bar, John gives the tattooed female bartender a nod. "Evening, Addy."

"Evening, John." Keeping her smile platonic, Addy asks, "The usual?"

"Yes, please. Thank you." Addy gives a soft giggle as she pours him a glass of bourbon before he asks, "So… you're a drummer?"

"Yep. Though I haven't played in years. You a guitarist?"

"Been thinking about taking it back up." Meanwhile…

"This is Winston at the Continental Hotel. I'd like to make a 'Dinner Reservation' for one. In the Lounge. 'First-class', if you please." Sighing, he ends the call before shaking his head. "I can only hope the 'High Table' won't take it out on the Hotel or John."


End file.
